as the crow flies the river's bend
 

lying in wait at the water hole ecotourists
 

Disappearing Ridgeline

displaced transplants walking tall eucalypts’ light filtering once dense foliage now thinning miles of great horned owls nesting for centuries disoriented feathers drift down limbless trees spinning blue silence where thousands of birds call one plaintive whistle tales of deep green moss-colored secrets and autumn leaves rotting on the forest floor drag marks of logs gouge into hillsides into dirt roads into wood for houses for blazing wildfires for pictures in storybooks

nothing in its way
but scorched earth
morning wind